


Hung Up High in the Gallery

by lovelarry10



Category: One Direction (Band)
Genre: Artist Harry, Best Friends, Body Paint, Body Worship, Eventual Smut, Fluff and Smut, Friends to Lovers, Love Confessions, M/M, Pining, Slow Burn, Smut, Song: Sunflower Vol. 6 (Harry Styles)
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-09-21
Updated: 2020-09-21
Packaged: 2021-03-06 17:27:22
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 14,006
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26412655
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lovelarry10/pseuds/lovelarry10
Summary: "Louis, lay still!”Louis sighed loudly, and Harry watched his chest puff out as he inhaled deeply, the breath he let out loudly making Harry’s curls shift. “I am, stop being so fussy. Can I see yet?”“Nope,” Harry remarked, smiling to himself. “I’m doing your chest next. Shit, this is going to look so good, Lou. Your tan and these colours… why haven’t we done this before?”“Because we haven’t been this drunk in a while, and it never occurred to me until tonight?”❁ ❁ ❁ ❁ ❁ ❁When Harry’s best friend, Louis, comes to support him at his art show, he decides they need to do some celebrating afterwards. How fast do the lines between friends and lovers get blurred ... or better, get painted?
Relationships: Harry Styles/Louis Tomlinson
Comments: 66
Kudos: 482
Collections: Fine Line Fic Fest





	Hung Up High in the Gallery

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you to Liz and C for all the help with this one!
> 
> Enjoy :)
> 
> This fic was written for the [Fine Line Fic Fest](https://finelineficfest.tumblr.com//). Make sure you check out all the other great fics in the collection which can be found [here](https://archiveofourown.org/collections/FineLineFicFest//)!
> 
> DISCLAIMER:  
> This is a work of fiction. All characters are of my own creation and in no way reflect the beliefs and actions of those in real life. Any sexual content is consensual and legal per the consent guidelines in the United Kingdom. Please ensure you read the tags before proceeding with this story - they are there to protect you and me. If you believe anything is in any way triggering for you, please do not continue reading.
> 
> Reposting of this work is a violation of copyright and will be reported. I also do not permit any translations of my work.

❁ ❁ ❁ ❁ ❁ ❁

**_Summer_ **

“Oi, pay attention! That woman looks like she’s thinking of buying that picture,” Louis hissed, digging his elbow into Harry’s side as he did so, getting Harry’s full attention.

“I am,  _ Lewis, _ ” Harry mumbled, trying to focus his eyes on the potential customer, hovering nearby so she could have a good look, hopefully deciding to buy something. The several glasses of champagne that Harry had thrown back over the past few hours were making everything just a little fuzzy around the edges; he was also a bit giggly, not that he’d admit that to anyone. “Is it wrong that part of me wishes she’d leave so I can go home? I’m tired ...” he whined, trying to rest against Louis, but his best friend wasn’t having it. 

Louis laughed next to him, pushing Harry in the small of his back towards the woman, making him stumble forwards a little, tripping over his big feet. “Yeah, it is. This is your show. Go forth and make money, Harold. I have expensive taste, you know.”

“And that’s not my problem!” Harry sang as he hurried away, wishing desperately that it could be his problem. Not that Louis would ever be a problem for Harry. Not ever. Louis was Harry’s  _ everything.  _ “Good evening, ma’am. And how are you on this fine evening?”

Harry made small talk with the woman until she decided to buy Harry’s remaining piece in the show, paying slightly over the odds, although Harry wasn’t going to argue. Throughout the whole exchange, he could feel Louis’ eyes staring into his back, and he did his best not to react, to be a professional. For the most part, he was sure he’d pulled it off. After shaking hands with his final customer of the evening, Harry watched as Louis saw her out, pulling the sliding door of the gallery shut behind him. He leaned against the door and sighed.

It was hard for Harry to tear his eyes away from the vision that was his best friend. Louis had insisted on supporting Harry for the duration of the evening, despite his own busy work schedule, and had been a social butterfly from the moment the doors had opened three hours ago. He was a burst of sunshine in a yellow shirt over a black t-shirt, tight black jeans on his lower half, brogues gleaming on his feet. He looked beautiful, and it had taken all of Harry’s self-restraint to hold back from running his fingers through Louis’ quiff, or sliding an arm around his waist as they mosied around the gallery before anyone else had arrived.

“Time to go home,” Louis called as he headed back over to Harry, draping himself over the taller man. Harry felt Louis tuck his chin over his shoulder, and he turned slightly, letting his lips brush against Louis’ stubbly cheek for a moment. “I’m still sad, you know.”

Harry frowned. “About what?” He wriggled away from Louis, turning to face him. 

Louis let out a dramatic sigh, staring off across the gallery. “You know why! My sunflower picture sold. I wish I’d told you before that I wanted it. But then that bloody bloke collared me and by the time I got back to it, the little bloody green sticker was there. I am  _ heartbroken.  _ Devastated. Traumatised- ngh!”

Harry pressed his palm against Louis’ mouth, giggling as Louis licked at it to get him off, loving when Louis was a little dramatic. He reached down and grabbed Louis’ hand, yanking him across the gallery until they came to a stop in front of the picture Louis was talking about. It was based on a sunflower field the pair had visited earlier that summer. They’d stumbled upon it entirely by accident, and had spent the rest of the day there, Louis wandering around as Harry sat and sketched, the sun warming his skin as his pencil moved freely across his sketchpad until the sun had set, and he could no longer see.

“Is this the one you mean?”

Louis nodded, flouting gallery etiquette as he reached out, running the pads of his fingertips over the painting, over the bright yellow flowers that looked as if they were dancing in the breeze. “Yep. I know I’ve got all the photos but it’s not the same, is it? An original Styles artwork. That’s what I really want.”

“Good thing it’s yours then,” Harry shrugged, watching as Louis’ expression turned from wistful to shocked, his blue eyes wide open and shining with excitement. “I put the sticker there, Lou. I saw one of the gallery staff talking to someone about it, so I made sure everyone knew it was gone. It was always yours. I just wanted to show it off - I’m proud of it.”

“You bloody legend!” Louis yelled, running at Harry and grabbing him in a hug, their bodies pressed together from head to toe. Harry could feel Louis’ hands clutching at his shirt, probably wrinkling it, but that was the furthest thing from Harry’s mind at that moment. The rest of his senses were filled up with  _ LouisLouisLouis… _ the smell of his shampoo, the aftershave Harry had got him last Christmas, even the fruity alcoholic drink Louis had been sipping as the last patrons had walked around, finishing their own champagne. “I can’t believe you did that for me.”

Harry swallowed as Louis pulled back, cupping his cheeks and staring deeply into Harry’s eyes. “You’re … you’re welcome,” he stuttered, shoving his shaking hands into the pockets of his trousers. “The gallery people said we can collect it tomorrow.”

“Perfect!” Louis grinned, releasing Harry and turning his attention back to the painting. “I’ll never forget that afternoon. Probably one of the best days out we’ve ever had.”

Harry agreed quietly, leaving Louis to admire his new painting as Harry found his blazer draped over a chair, hooking it over his shoulder with a finger as he called for Louis, more than ready to come home. He laughed when Louis appeared clutching a half empty bottle of champagne with a devilish grin on his face. “And what are you doing with that?”

“You paid for it, so we get to enjoy it,” Louis laughed, almost skipping out of the building ahead of Harry. He quickly nodded his thanks to the gallery staff and followed Louis outside, seeing him bent down as he spoke to a taxi driver. Harry stood still and admired the curve of Louis’ bum until he stood up - he was grateful that the dusk was masking the blush on his cheeks. “Come on, Styles, I’ve got us a ride!”

Harry smiled and walked over, sliding into the seat next to Louis, who wasted no time in swinging his legs up and around into Harry’s lap. “Comfortable, are we?”

“Most definitely,” Louis confirmed, his words a little slurred now as he finished his sentence with a long sip from the bottle. “We’re going back to yours. Assumed we would be, anyway.”

“That’s fine,” Harry said, accepting the bottle from Louis and sipping too. The fizz had diminished slightly, but it still tasted nice on Harry’s tongue, and he liked the warm buzz it gave him. “Staying over?”

Louis nodded, his face illuminated by the street lights that filtered in through the windows of the car. Harry thought he looked almost ethereal, and he tightened his grip on the bottle, rings clinking on the glass. The low hum of music kept the car from being too silent, and the miles sped by, the car soon pulling in in front of Harry’s warehouse. He’d bought it cheap, converting the huge open space into his own living area and studio, meaning he never had to go far when the inspiration to paint struck.

Harry laughed as Louis ran off towards the door, pulling a key from his pocket and letting himself in while Harry smiled and thanked the driver, hurrying up the path, the bottle swinging by his side. He pulled across the large wooden door behind him, locking it as he turned, seeing Louis slumped on his sofa, eyes closed. “Bedtime?”

Louis scoffed, peeking open one eye to give Harry a disparaging look. “Are we forty years old, Haz? No, it’s not bedtime. The night is young!”

With a roll of his eyes, Harry headed towards his kitchen area, stilling when something landed on his head, stopping him being able to see. He reached up and lifted it off, laughing softly when he saw it was Louis’ yellow shirt. He slowly turned around to see Louis in the midst of tugging his jeans down, now in just a tight black t-shirt and some red boxers. It was a lot to take in, and Harry just stared, not blinking until Louis managed to kick his jeans off, letting out a whispered “yes!” as he did so, catching Harry’s eye. It was too late to pretend he hadn’t been staring, so Harry dared to wink at Louis, chucking him back his shirt.

“You might want this later.”

Before Louis could reply, Harry spun around and hurried back to the kitchen. He grabbed two flutes from the cupboard and another bottle of wine from the fridge, setting them down on the worktop for a minute. He gripped the edge of the counter, scrunching his eyes shut for a second, blocking out everything around him. He could hear Louis singing away to himself, a sure sign he was drunk, and let out a long, slow, deep breath.

“Get it together. He’s your best mate.”

After a few moments, Harry released the counter and grabbed the glasses and bottle in his large hands, walking back to the lounge area. Louis had made himself at home, feet propped up on the arm of the sofa, his arms tucked behind his head. Harry set down the glasses and wine, reaching over to tickle Louis’ foot, making him squeal. “Thank you for coming tonight, Lou.”

Louis’ beautiful eyes opened and he gave Harry a dopey smile, the top of his quiff flopping as he turned his face entirely towards Harry. “No need to thank me. You know how excited I’ve been for that show. I love seeing people admire your work.”

“Well, it meant a lot to have your support. Mum and Robin were so happy to see you as well. Actually, she made me promise to drag you back home for a roast one weekend. You don’t have to, I just-”

“Yeah, she texted me already. I think we said two weeks' time. I’m driving, though.”

Harry just blinked, marveling at Louis’ easy way with his family, loving how close Louis was to his mum. Anne had often asked Harry if there was more to their friendship, but Harry had always denied it, telling her Louis was his best friend … soulmate, even, but that’s as far as it went. Lying wasn’t easy, but Harry had done it for so long now, it was almost second nature to push his true feelings down, to allow himself to just accept Louis as his friend and nothing more.

They sat quietly, the TV playing in the background as they drank and made small talk, soon finishing the champagne and the wine, and before long, Harry’s mind was swimming again. His head was in Louis’ lap, and his stomach hurt from giggling so much - at what, he wasn’t entirely sure. 

“Stooooop,” Harry whined, clutching his sore tummy, trying and failing to glare up at an equally inebriated Louis. “You’re a terrible influence on me. Making me have too many drinkies.”

“I resent that,” Louis snorted, running his fingers through Harry’s curls, making the other man want to purr and nuzzle into his touch. “Although I do love drunk Harry.”

“You love all Harry,” Harry said boldly, blinking up at his best friend. He sat up suddenly, screwing his eyes shut as the room started to spin and then clumsily got to his feet, using the sofa to prop himself up. “Shit…” He finally opened his eyes and blinked rapidly, trying to focus. “I want to paint. Let’s go and paint.”

He felt Louis slip his hand inside his own and he pulled him towards the other side of the warehouse, opening the door to the studio area. Harry was notoriously private when it came to his works-in-progress but with Louis, that never mattered. Louis was the one who strolled in early on a Sunday morning with coffee, or late at night when he knew Harry had been working all day and hadn’t eaten, takeaway bags in his hands. He always got to see Harry’s work before anyone else, and it was a privilege Louis never took for granted. 

Louis paused as they walked inside, Harry heading straight for his shelves full of paints, looking over them. “The smell of paint always reminds me of you.”

Harry looked over his shoulder and smiled at his friend, reaching for a few tubes of acrylics from the shelves, gathering as many as he could into his arms, all shades in the same colour hue. He let them clatter to the floor as he hurried off to grab some canvases, a few that would be too small for his own work but were perfect for a time like this when he just wanted to create. “You having a go?”

“Always,” Louis replied, grinning. He sat cross legged on the floor as Harry squirted some of the paint from the tubes onto an easel, the colours standing out under the bright studio lights. Harry had installed those for a small fortune when he’d moved in. Louis’ tongue poked out at the corner as he rummaged through Harry’s vase full of brushes, selecting a couple and handing one to Harry too. “What are we painting?”

“You know I never tell you what to paint. Art has to come from the heart,” Harry mumbled, gently weaving his brush through some of the paint. He knew exactly what he wanted to paint, and he kept an eye on Louis out of the corner of his eye as the other man just sat quietly. Soon, Harry was splashing colour all over his canvas, his drunken state loosening him up enough that he wasn’t putting any kind of effort in, it was just flowing from his hand into the brush. He wasn’t even sure how it was going to end up, not yet, anyway.

Harry felt rather than saw Louis as he moved next to him, Louis’ knee pressing against his own. Soon, Louis’ face was leaning against Harry’s left arm, watching every stroke of his brush. “I can’t sit here and paint next to you. It’s like watching a genius at work.”

He couldn’t help the scoff that fell from his lips, shaking his head as he dunked his brush in the paint, collecting more colour. “Oh shut up, Lou. This is hardly something I can put in the gallery, is it?”

“No, but it’s … it’s still beautiful. Like you’re putting a bit of your soul onto the canvas.”

“Now I know you’ve been drinking …” Harry mused, laying his brush down for a moment. He stared at the artwork he’d just created, wondering where to go with it next when suddenly, the back of his left hand felt wet and cold. He looked down, seeing a yellow streak across his skin, and his eyes soon found Louis’, sparkling with mirth. “Really? I- LOUIS!”

He winced as a glob of paint started running down his cheek, hanging from his jaw before Harry caught it on his finger, looking down to see bright orange now. Instead of looking repentant, Louis was gathering more paint on another brush, kneeling on the floor now, acres of tanned skin exposed to Harry as he turned back to his best friend, smirking once more. Harry bit down on his bottom lip, already dreading what was about to happen, but as always, he could deny Louis nothing.

“No dicks, Louis. I don’t want you painting dicks on me again.”

Louis cackled as the brush made contact with Harry’s bare forearm, and Harry just watched in amusement as he realised what Louis was doing, careful with his strokes, slipping outside the lines of his tattoos thanks to his drunkenness. “You’re like my own colouring book,” he said softly, making his way up Harry’s arm, focusing intently as he started work on the mermaid tattoo. “Ooh where are the glitter paints?”

“Uh uh. No way. They never wash off,” Harry protested, fairly certain they were at the bottom of a cupboard somewhere, well out of the reach of Louis’ devious hands. “You’ve got these. Make do.”

Louis pouted up at him, and it took all of Harry’s self control to not surge forward and kiss Louis’ lips, to finally taste him. “Fine, Mr Boring. Now sit still, I’m working right now.”

Harry did as he was told. He let Louis lift up his arms so he could reach the tattoos on the underside of his arm, all the way up to his shoulder. The paints soon felt warm on his skin and dried quickly, and Harry rolled his eyes at the mess Louis was making, using brushes too thick for the delicate lines of Harry’s tattoos, but he didn’t mind. Louis, however, was looking incredibly pleased with himself, but when he spoke next, Harry wasn’t quite sure what to say.

“Take your shirt off.”

Harry swallowed slowly, wondering if this crossed some sort of boundary, especially since they were drunk, and not entirely of sound mind. It wasn’t that he minded being shirtless in front of Louis. Louis had seen him naked before, when Harry had strolled out of the shower, not realising Louis had let himself in, and they’d swum together countless times, so really, this was nothing. But somehow, right now, this felt like something, and the swirling feeling in Harry’s tummy wasn’t helping this feel any easier. 

“What?” He was stalling and he knew it, but Louis just got to his feet, clumsily tripping to where Harry’s radio was. He flicked it on, grimacing as it blasted out too loudly, lowering the volume to something more acceptable. “Louis, I don’t think…”

“Oh don’t be such a prude,” Louis mumbled as he now stood in front of Harry’s shelves, grabbing more tubes of paint. “I’m practically in my smalls as well. I can take my shirt off too if you want? Or are you cold?”

“No, I’m not- fine. Just … yeah, okay.” Harry reached down and began to undo the small pearlescent buttons that held his shirt together and just shrugged it off his shoulders, letting it fall to the floor. “Are you going to paint me?”

“Mm hmm,” Louis confirmed with a hum, happily mixing a few colours together on another easel he’d appropriated from somewhere, swaying his curvy hips as he did so. Harry spared a glance down at the black and white tattoos on his torso, wondering exactly what colours Louis was going to daub them with, clenching his toes against the wooden floorboards underneath his feet. “Ready?” Louis was twirling the brush around with a smile, and Harry could only nod, bracing himself for the cold sensation of paint against his skin.

“Fuck-” Harry hissed as Louis started work on the swallows at Harry’s collarbones first. He couldn’t see what Louis was doing, but he caught sight of a soft green on the end of Louis’ brush, looking at Louis’ hair shine in the bright lights as he bent down, concentrating. “You having fun there?”

Louis giggled to himself, and Harry could only watch his shoulders shake with it, the way his golden skin shone so beautifully. “I really am. This was an excellent idea of mine. I’m very clever, Harold, don’t ya agree?” He paused in his painting, gazing up at Harry for a moment. “Haz?”

“Sorry. Yeah. You are. How can I … I wanna see what you’re doing.”

Louis paused thoughtfully for a moment, stepping away from Harry after a second. He came back with his phone, and aimed it at Harry’s chest, snapping a few photos before he turned the screen, showing it to Harry. As Harry expected, it was pretty bad, like a toddler had been let loose on Harry’s body, but he smiled anyway, seeing how proud Louis of his work. “You like it? I’m no artist, but I reckon I’ve done a really good job.”

“It’s… interesting,” Harry said, making Louis scowl at him. “No, just … it’s modern. Very free and … very you. Carry on.”

“Sure?”

Harry just nodded as Louis grinned happily, setting back to work. Harry leaned over after a few minutes, snatching up the wine bottle by its top. He brought it to his lips and took a few long gulps, ignoring the sting of the alcohol as it worked its way down his throat. He knew in a way that drinking more alcohol wasn’t the best idea he’d ever had, especially with Louis in such close proximity, but there was a tiny part of his brain telling Harry that getting more drunk was a marvellous plan, and Harry chose to listen to that over everything else.

Things took a little turn when Louis perched himself down on a low stool Harry had, tending to Harry’s butterfly tattoo. It meant Louis was almost eye level with Harry’s crotch, and Harry gulped, praying that he was too drunk to get it up, that his body wouldn’t react to the position Louis was in. That didn’t stop Harry’s mind from thinking about the things Louis could do sat like this, but still.

“I need a smaller brush,” Louis mumbled to himself as he smeared bright orange across one of the wings, ignoring the more delicate lines Harry’s tattoo artist had spent hours painstakingly inking into his skin. “Hazza. Brush?”

“Your legs broken or something?” Harry muttered as he walked over to his selection of brushes, picking up one he usually used for detail, hoping Louis wouldn’t destroy the soft bristles. “Here you go.”

Louis dunked the brush he was using in a pot of water by his thigh, and gave Harry a dazzling smile, accepting the brush from him. “Thank yooooou, love. Why have you never let me paint you like this? I mean, I’ve seen body art before but this is so cool.”

“Never really crossed my mind,” Harry admitted, although for the life of him, he couldn’t think why he hadn’t. “Are you… oh god-” Harry almost cringed as he let out a needy moan when Louis used the small brush to trail along the leaf of one of his laurel tattoos with a deep, forest green. “Shit, I’m sorry, I-”

“Don’t be,” Louis said, and Harry was surprised to see his cheeks glowing in a soft pink now, watching as he tucked his bottom lip between his teeth, concentrating as he started painting Harry again. He worked the brush back and forth over Harry’s skin, making him shiver. “I never realised how gorgeous these tattoos are. So, like, intricate and pretty.”

“Yeah?” Harry breathed out, his voice a little huskier than he’d intended. The air in the room suddenly felt heavy around him, and as Louis leaned in to focus harder on his work, Harry let out a long, slow breath, desperately trying to keep a modicum of control. “They’re probably my favourites. I always wanted to get something like them on me, then I saw this picture in an art magazine where a guy had something similar, so I just… went for it. Hurt like fuck, but I loved them straight away.” Harry was too aware he was rambling, but it was distracting him from Louis’ breath dancing across his stomach.

“I’ll never forget the first time I saw them, peeking out under that lacy shirt,” Louis said, turning to dab his brush in the paint again, collecting a slightly lighter green this time. Harry just watched on, wondering where Louis was going with this piece of art. He held his breath as Louis reached out, running his finger over a leaf briefly. “I’m actually really scared I’m ruining them right now …”

Harry shook his head, a curl falling down into his eyes that he quickly brushed away, not wanting Louis to stop what he was doing in any way. “You’re not. And anyway, it’ll all wash off. I really like it so far, Lou. Don’t stop.”

Louis only nodded before he started to paint again, much slower, steadier strokes than he had done before. Under his breath, he was singing along to a song that had come on, one that sounded familiar to Harry's ears. He strained to hear it.

_ “...above us all the stars are watchin’, there’s no place I’d rather be in this world, your eyes are where I’m lost in…” _

Harry came in, harmonising with Louis to the song they both loved, Bruno’s sultry voice overpowered now by the two men. 

_ “Underneath the chandelier we're dancin' all alone… There's no reason to hide what we're feelin' inside, right now…” _

The chorus hit and they both sang as Louis continued to paint, Harry’s eyes following every movement of Louis’ delicate wrist, the way his fingers were gripping the thin brush, how he could see the muscles in Louis’ forearm flex as he ran the paint-laden brush over Harry’s tattoo, finishing the one on his left hip. Harry lowered his voice, listening to Louis’ beautiful rasp, the lightness that complemented the depth of Harry’s voice as they tailed off, letting Bruno take the lead for the second verse.

“I think I’m done with this one. Lemme just …” Louis dropped the brush onto the easel and stretched out, reaching for the phone that had been neglected on the floor. He held it up to his eye level, and Harry just stared straight ahead, looking just over Louis’ left shoulder as the man moved around in front of him. “I really like it. What do you think?”

Harry almost dreaded it before Louis turned the phone around, but when he saw what Louis had done with his swallows, butterfly and one laurel, he was pleasantly surprised. “Hey, you got better!”

Louis giggled again at that, quickly cursing when he knelt back down, almost toppling the easel over next to him. He caught the paintbrush before it rolled on to the floor, and Harry grabbed Louis’ shoulder before his best friend fell over too, feeling a shock of something as he made contact with Louis’ bare skin. “Thanks, love. So can I finish you off?”

“Umm … what?”

“The painting. Your other laurel needs doing. I don’t want it to be all wonky.”

“Fine,” Harry said, blushing at his misinterpretation of Louis’ seemingly innocent words. “Yeah, course you can. Can I just … use the loo first?”

“Sure, babe. Want to wash my brushes anyway. Do I need to use anything special?”

Harry shook his head, hurrying away. “Not for those, not ‘til you’re done. Back in a sec!” He slammed the door of the small bathroom closed, resting his forehead against the cool wood, letting out a shaky breath. “Get yourself together, Styles,” he muttered, banging his head softly against the wooden surface. “He’s your best friend. Your  _ best friend _ .”

With that, Harry placed his palms against the door and pushed himself up, turning around to use the facilities, careful not to smudge any of Louis’ art work. He washed his hands gently, cringing as some of the paint on his anchor tattoo bled and dribbled down the drain. Harry used some loo roll to dab at it, trying to neaten it up as best he could. By the time he came out, Louis had switched off the big lights and lit a few of Harry’s huge Yankee Candle jars, the soft fragrance already starting to permeate the room.

“Hope you don’t mind me lighting them … just got fed up with the big lights. We can switch the lamps on too, help me to see …”

“It’s fine,” Harry said, watching as Louis leaned over the arm of the sofa to flick on a lamp, revealing the curve of his bum in his rather tight boxers. Harry stared until Louis sat up abruptly, and he whirled around, pretending to be fascinated by the light switch next to where he was standing. “Where do you want me?”

“Same as before,” Louis instructed, smiling as Harry ambled off, shivering slightly. It wasn’t cold in the room by any means, but Harry was a myriad of emotions at the moment, and it was playing havoc with his body. His heart was racing in his chest still, his head was swimming with thoughts of Louis and the whole night, and he still felt vulnerable in front of Louis like this, although in only a good way. Harry bit back a quick inhale as Louis dropped to his knees right in front of Harry, peering up at him from underneath his eyelashes. “Ha! Didn’t think about how this would look. Sorry, Haz.”

Harry was flustered now, and he stumbled over his words, trying to reassure Louis that it didn’t matter in the slightest, when it did, very much so. “I, uh, it’s fine, I- don’t worry, Lou.” An old Shania Twain came over the radio as Louis picked up his easel, tucking one now clean paintbrush behind his ear as he stirred up his paint with another, looking like he knew what he was doing. Louis was humming along tunefully. “If I didn’t know any better, I’d think you were a professional.”

Louis’ laughter was like music to Harry’s ears, and he shrugged one shoulder, giving Harry a soft smile. He didn’t bother answering and instead set to work, starting to paint Harry’s skin. This time, Harry didn’t jump as Louis worked, used to the sensation by now, and he just let his mind wander, his hands hanging uselessly at his sides, unsure what to do with them. Truthfully, what he wanted to do was stroke Louis’ hair, to feel it's soft strands between his fingers, but that wasn’t exactly the kind of thing they did, especially with Louis on his knees in front of Harry.

Harry loved his job as an artist. He’d always had a passion for art since he was a little boy, bringing home paintings from nursery that were far beyond a typical toddler’s capabilities, and he’d been lucky enough to attend schools that had noticed his talent and honed it, the brilliant staff of the art department at Harry’s secondary school encouraging him in any way they could. By the age of fourteen, Harry had had several commissions for work already, and by the time he went to University to study art, he had a large portfolio and an Instagram account that boasted almost a million followers.

Louis had been the one constant in Harry's life since school that hadn’t changed. While some friends had tried to befriend Harry for less than genuine purposes, Louis had been the one supporting his work while still treating Harry like any other friend since they’d been eleven years old. He was the one who stayed up all night with Harry when he’d stressed over an important job at sixteen, calming Harry down and bringing him chinese takeaway at two in the morning, celebrating in Harry’s successes as well.

And, if Harry was honest, he’d been in love with Louis since forever. At first, he’d assumed it was just a crush, a silly infatuation over his best friend that he was sure would fade away, but quite the opposite had happened. Harry became enamoured by Louis’ kindness, and the more time they spent together, the deeper Harry fell. Now, he was entirely in love with everything about Louis, and he was fairly certain there was no way back. He was also certain Louis only saw him as a friend, and that his feelings of love weren’t reciprocated at all. It was something Harry was still coming to terms with, and he wasn’t sure he’d ever be fully over his feelings. 

“Almost done ...” Louis leaned in slightly to finish off the edge of the laurel leaf, and Harry blinked himself back to reality, trying not to react as Louis’ hair brushed against his crotch, a bit too close for comfort. “Well, I’ve excelled myself here, Harold. If you ever break your wrist or something, I think I could quite easily replace you and get some of your work done. I also appreciate these laurels now more than ever.”

Harry let out a nervous laugh, and tried to ignore the twitch currently happening in his jeans. It was a combination of Harry’s imagination, Louis’ position on his knees in front of Harry, and the feeling of Louis’ fingertips on his hip, holding him still. The more he realised what was happening, the more aware Harry felt of his ever-present erection, and as Louis lifted the brush away, Harry took a step back, turning around quickly so Louis couldn’t see anything incriminating.

“Okay, my turn!” Harry blurted out before he could think it through. He reached down, quickly trying to arrange his dick so he wasn’t embarrassing himself, and pressed his lips harshly together before he turned around, dazzling Louis with a wide smile. “You up for it?”

“Always,” Louis smirked, barely sparing Harry a glance as he reached behind his head, whipping his own t-shirt off in a smooth movement. Harry almost squealed at the tanned skin now exposed to him as it went sailing across the room and landed somewhere out of sight, not that either of them seemed bothered. “You got any beers?”

“Uh, maybe in the, um, the fridge thingy?” His eyes were fixed on his laurels again, admiring Louis’ work and he only looked up when Louis’ footsteps headed away to where he kept a small fridge stocked with water and a couple of beers, even if he wasn’t the biggest drinker in the world. He looked down at the paints Louis had got out and made a mess of, trying to work out what he could paint from them. “Louis, what did you- FUCK ME!” Louis cackled at Harry’s loud exclamation, jumping a mile as he pressed the chilled can against Harry’s warm skin, rolling it down his spine. “Louis, fuck off, oh my god, you dick!”

“Not into temperature play, then,” Louis chuckled, cracking open the can and sipping at it quickly. “I know I’ve had too much to drink, but shit, nothing hits the spot quite like a cold beer late in the evening.”

Harry hummed his agreement and caught sight of Louis out of the corner of his eye, watching as a droplet of condensation fell from the bottom of Louis’ beer can and trickled down his chest, ending up pooling at his belly button. “You sure you’re up for getting painted?”

“Oh, definitely,” Louis confirmed, wiping off his mouth on the back of his hand. “I’m knackered though, so I’m laying down. That alright?”

“Fine,” Harry squeaked out, eyes fixated as Louis laid himself out on the floorboards, tucking his hands under his head, exposing his underarms. “Comfy?”

“Mmm,” Louis murmured, letting his eyes shut. Harry came closer ever so slowly, lowering himself to his knees next to Louis’ body. “What are you painting? Doing my tattoos like I did you?”

Harry shook his head before he realised he honestly didn’t know what he was going to paint. Usually, he knew what he wanted to create as he set up his creative space, ideas running in technicolour through his mind, but right now, he was blank. There was just an abyss.

“Helloooo? Earth to Harry…”

“Sorry, what?” Harry said, tuning back into reality, still not really looking at where Louis was spread out on his floor, barely dressed. 

“I said when am I going to get my painting? I want my sunflowers in my house, I know exactly where-

“That’s it,” Harry suddenly said, cutting off his best friend. “Sorry. Again. Just … I know what I want to paint. Sorry.”

“Stop apologising, you giant twit. But don’t think I won’t keep harassing you until that painting is on my wall, Styles. And be gentle with me, I’m very precious.”

Harry just nodded in agreement, using several of the colours of paint to make the exact shade of yellow he wanted. It was important to him to get this right, even if no one but himself and Louis were going to see it. When he was satisfied it was the perfect shade of sunshine yellow, Harry reluctantly lifted his eyes, looking at Louis’ body. 

Louis was as beautiful as ever. His chest tattoo was starting to fade now, having been done several years ago, but Harry loved it more than ever. He loved how Louis’ soft chest hair curled over the letters, and his small but perfectly formed dusky pink nipples. His stomach was soft and, although Louis hated it, Harry adored the curve of his belly that no amount of sit ups or running could seem to shift. 

His hips were another part Harry loved to touch, whether it was a hand on there to guide Louis in the direction Harry wanted to go, or the way Louis’ love handles peeked out over the top of his footie shorts. All of this on display in front of him was quite overwhelming, and Harry closed his eyes for a moment, trying to calm himself down. When he finally opened his eyes again, Louis’ eyes were on him, looking at him questioningly.

“You okay?”

Harry gave him a wide smile, hoping it would stop Louis asking too many more questions. He was barely holding it together as it was. “Fine! Now lie still, I’m going to start. And don’t move, Lou. I know you’re a fidget, but you’re gonna have to stay still for me.”

“I can be a good boy,” Louis murmured as Harry reached out, bringing Louis’ arm close enough that he could paint it, desperately trying to ignore Louis’ words. He dipped the tip of his small brush into the yellow paint he’d created, and started to outline a petal, concentrating hard, his vision still a little fuzzy from the champagne and beer. “Oh, it’s cold.”

Harry chuckled quietly, carrying on with his work. “You’ll get used to it. No, don’t look, I want to surprise you!”

Louis huffed but covered his eyes again with his arm, relaxing back as the candles flickered in their jars, casting shadows around the room as the soft music in the background kept it from being entirely silent.

“Are you always this quiet when you work?” Louis asked after a while, when Harry was working on a flower on Louis’ bicep. It curled around the muscle, and when it was done, Harry immediately set work on painting a vine-line stem from it, poking out his tongue as he held the brush as steady as he could, continuing the line down to his elbow. “That tickles!”

“I dunno. I’m usually alone when I paint, so I guess so? I have my music, though … Louis, lay still!”

Louis sighed loudly, and Harry watched his chest puff out as he inhaled deeply, the breath he let out loudly making Harry’s curls shift. “I am, stop being so fussy. Can I see yet?”

“Nope,” Harry remarked, smiling to himself. “I’m doing your chest next. Shit, this is going to look so good, Lou. Your tan and these colours… why haven’t we done this before?”

“Because we haven’t been this drunk in a while, and it never occured to me until tonight?”

Harry just shrugged, cursing when he smudged a line that he’d just painted, catching it with the edge of his little finger. “Shit.”

“What? Did you ruin it already? I managed to literally paint half of your body without making a mistake,” Louis grinned, showcasing that sunshine smile that never failed to warm Harry’s heart. “Let me see, don’t be a bore…”

“I’ll stop completely if you don’t quit whinging,” Harry said, teasing his best friend. They both knew Harry wouldn’t stop until he was finished, a bit of a perfectionist when it came to his work, something had long ago accepted about himself. Plus, there was the fact that the longer this took him, the longer he got to stare at Louis’ half naked body laid out on his floor. “Let me just …”

He wiped carefully with the edge of his cloth, making sure not to smudge anything further as he cleaned up the mess he’d made. When he was done, he flicked the damp cloth against Louis’ face, making his best friend shriek and quickly sit up, glaring at Harry. Their eyes locked on each other and Harry just stared, shivering slightly under the intensity of Louis’ gaze. His eyes slipped down as Louis’ tongue darted out, licking his lips, and Harry clenched his hand against the floor, trying to decide what to do.

“I should, uh, carry on,” Harry mumbled, bringing his attention back to the easel by his right knee. What he didn’t catch was the flicker of something in Louis’ eyes as he laid back down, rearranging his hair so it wasn’t in his eyes. Harry saw him shift around slightly, probably uncomfortable on the floorboards so he pushed up onto his knees, grabbing a cushion from the sofa and handing it to Louis, who gave him a small smile as he tucked it under his head. “You’re welcome,” Harry whispered before Louis could even speak.

The rest of Harry’s painting carried on in silence. Louis was playing on his phone now his arms were free, and Harry concentrated on the myriad of sunflowers he was painting over Louis’ torso, some of them much bigger now Harry had more skin to work with. He decided to use Louis’ left nipple as the centre of a new flower, and worked quietly, painting the petals out from his areola, noticing how the bud began to harden as Harry painted near it.

“I, um,” Harry began, faltering when he realised he didn’t know what to say. He could see Louis tensing the rest of his body, clearly aware of how his nipples were betraying him, and Harry could feel his cheeks heat up in embarrassment, wondering if he should stop. The paintbrush hovered over Louis’ chest, threatening to drip, a glob of yellow paint dangling dangerously from the bristles. “Louis, I-” He stopped when finally the yellow paint dropped, splashing onto Louis’ chest, thankfully just missing Harry’s artwork. “Shit-”

Harry went to lean over Louis to grab a clean cloth, but then Louis surged up, taking Harry entirely by surprise as their lips met in a clumsy kiss Harry wasn’t ever going to forget. He shot a hand out, supporting himself up above Louis as the other man’s hands came around, holding him at the back of his head, not letting him pull away. Harry made a noise in the back of his throat, and it was enough to prompt Louis to release him, Harry hurrying to sit up, his heart racing in his chest.

He just fish-mouthed, looking at his best friend. The best friend who had just kissed him. Louis’ cheeks were fire engine red now, and he shuffled up onto his elbows, still staring at Harry.

“You taste like wine.”

Harry just blinked down at him, still stunned. After all these years, Louis had finally kissed him. He genuinely had no idea Louis had wanted to do that, because if he had known, Harry wouldn’t have waited. Instead, he decided it was time to make up for lost time. He didn’t hesitate as he leaned back in, capturing Louis’ lips in another kiss, this time more precise, bringing a shaking hand up to cup Louis’ cheek.

His eyes fluttered shut as Louis started to kiss back, their lips working together like they’d done this countless times. Harry tilted his head slightly, allowing them to fit together a little better, and he felt Louis start to fall back to the floor, so Harry went with him, shifting his body as Louis laid out beneath him, still kissing hungrily. 

The paintbrush fell to the floor with a clatter as Harry released it from his hand, not caring now what kind of mess was being made. All he could think about right now was the feel of Louis’ soft lips on his, the way Louis’ hand was wrapped in his curls, and the foot that was resting against Harry’s leg, keeping them connected as much as possible.

“Shit,” Louis mumbled as Harry pulled away from the kiss, his arms shaking with the exertion of holding himself up now. As he sat himself up, Louis followed suit, sitting back against the sofa, looking at Harry with dark eyes. Harry felt ridiculously turned on as Louis’ eyes slowly swept down his body, to where there was a definite situation starting to happen in his trousers, and then back up to his eyes again. “Come here,” Louis instructed, patting his thighs, smiling softly at Harry.

Harry swallowed as he shuffled towards Louis on his knees, carefully moving the easel out of the way as he did so. He hesitated as his knee brushed Louis’ leg, but before he could overthink it, he swung one leg over, sitting down a bit heavily on Louis’ legs. Louis turned, steadying him with two hands on his hips.

“You kissed me,” Harry stated, his shaky hands coming to rest on Louis’ tummy, avoiding the still wet sunflowers on his skin. 

“I did.”

“You … kissed me,” Harry repeated, all other words completely gone by now. He smiled as Louis leaned in, kissing him again, just a quick brush of lips this time as his fingertips swept across Harry’s laurels, where the paint had thankfully dried. “ _ Louis … _ ”

“Shut up and let me kiss you some more,” Louis said, his voice husky now, and who was Harry to object to that? He couldn’t believe this was happening. He was in Louis’ lap, kissing him. And Louis was kissing him back. In fact, Louis’ tongue was running softly over Harry’s bottom lip, and Harry slowly parted his lips, moaning lowly as Louis’ tongue ran over his own, finally tasting each other properly. “Do you know,” Louis started as he pushed Harry up a little, still kissing him as much as he could, “how long I’ve wanted to do this?”

“Fuck … same here,” Harry replied, letting Louis twist them around until his back was against the floor, Louis now straddling his hips. They kept kissing as Harry wriggled underneath Harry, appreciating Louis’ weight against his crotch, giving him some much needed friction on his erection, which was swelling by the second. “God, Louis, I-”

“Me too. Whatever you’re about to say, me too,” Louis murmured, rolling his hips slightly, making Harry white out for a second, everything too much. He reached behind Louis and grabbed handfuls of Louis’ bum, the warmth of his skin seeping through Louis’ boxers, loving how Louis let out an obscene sound at the touch. “Shit, don’t stop touching-”

“I won’t, not ever,” Harry insisted, cheekily tucking his fingers just under the elastic waist of Louis’ underwear, loving how Louis arched into his touch. Their kisses were turning dirtier now, Louis nipping at Harry’s bottom lip, tugging back enough to let a shot of pain shoot through Harry’s body. It wasn’t something he’d thought about before, but he liked this, and the way Louis was making him feel. “You feel so good, Lou, I … this is real, isn’t it?”

Instead of answering, Louis swiped his fingers through the yellow paint on the easel and smeared it down Harry's chest, between his pectorals, smirking as he did so. Harry caught a gasp in the back of his throat, the feel of Louis’ fingers teasing him almost overwhelming. “Damn real,” Louis almost purred, leaning back down and biting Harry’s earlobe gently, pressing their chests together. “Oh, I’m making a mess…”

“I couldn’t give a shit,” Harry started, his whole body feeling on fire now. This was so much; everything Harry had ever wanted was happening, and he never wanted it to stop. Louis felt so good on top of him, the paint was creating an interesting sensation between their chests that Harry likened to something else in his mind, and he shivered with the thought. “Louis, take these off- I mean, if you-”

“Fuck yes,” Louis hissed, reaching to take his boxers off, quite happily baring himself to Harry. Harry could only stare unblinking as Louis’ cock sprang free, how Louis didn’t hesitate in wrapping a hand around himself, lazily tugging with his right hand as his left played with the curls tucked behind Harry’s ear, his hot breath ghosting over Harry’s lips. “Bit unfair, this, isn’t it? Can I …”

Harry just nodded, watching as Louis sat up enough that he could wriggle Harry’s boxers down, biting his lip as finally he was exposed. Harry hadn’t slept with anyone in quite a while now, and it felt odd to be laying there underneath Louis’ naked body, having the other man stare down at him, taking in every inch of him. 

“You’re so perfect,” Louis mumbled, running his hands all over Harry’s body, stopping at the v lines at his hips. “Wanted to kiss and touch you for so long.”

Harry sighed as Louis placed his hand at the base of his cock, slowly working his way up, teasing Harry. Harry gripped Louis’ hips a little harder then, trying to ground himself. “Wish you’d have told me … I’ve-” Harry cut himself off, wondering if it was too early to say it, but then, in his drunken state, decided it was the perfect time to admit it, “I’ve loved you for so long, Lou. You’ve always been my inspiration, my … yeah, my muse- oh  _ god _ .”

Harry threw his head further back as Louis took both of them in one hand, barely fitting his hand around as he slid up and down, releasing them to lick his palm briefly before returning, pressing them tightly together. The alcohol was still thrumming through Harry’s veins, but all he could think about was being inside Louis finally, that being a bit of a sobering thought. Still, he wasn’t sure that was what Louis wanted, and he needed to be sure.

“Louis- Lou, stop, baby …”

Louis did, still holding them both as he frowned down at Harry, suddenly looking very unsure. “Shit. Is this not-”

“No. No! It’s exactly okay. But … what do you want? I’m not sure I could stand it if you just wanted to fuck and then … be nothing again.” He looked up at Louis, who was by now trailing his fingers around the edge of one of the laurel tattoos. He was a vision himself, sitting there covered in sunflowers, every curve visible to Harry. “Lou? Please say something …”

“I don’t want to fuck,” Louis admitted, his cheeks a gorgeous rosy pink. “I mean, I _do_ want to fuck. You fucking me, preferably. But I want other stuff too. I want an ‘us’, Haz.  But right now?”

“Yeah?” Harry asked, taking Louis’ hand and bringing it to his lips to kiss is softly, eagerly awaiting his answer.

“Right now,” Louis said, lowering his voice, making it sound sultry, “I want your cock.” He stood up then, fully on display, his hip cocked out slightly. “Where’s your stuff?”

“Uh, bedroom.”

Louis just nodded and walked off, Harry watching his bum jiggle as he did so. Harry quickly sat up and shoved everything to the side, making sure the paint was out of harm’s way as he cleared up, determined that nothing would get in the way of this. When he was sure it was clean enough, Harry reached up and grabbed a blanket from the back of the sofa, quickly laying it out on the floor, scattering a couple more cushions to make them both more comfortable, plumping them as best he could.

“Well, there’s a view worthy of a gallery,” Louis said behind him, and Harry almost toppled over as he flipped himself around, giving Louis a dopey grin. He caught the bottle of lube that Louis threw to him, and smiled up as Louis walked closer, his dick swaying with each step. He paused, holding his hand out until Harry took it in his own. “You sure about this?”

“More than,” Harry insisted, tugging Louis’ arm until he sat down opposite him on the soft blanket, leaning in to kiss him. They laid down, Louis leaning over and nestled between Harry’s legs, keeping them touching as much as he could. The blissful sensations Harry was feeling were firing all over his body, and he just lost himself in the kiss, in Louis’ taste.

“Need more,” Louis panted out just a few minutes later, bucking his hips down helplessly against Harry, both men now hard and slightly sweaty. “Gonna open myself up, knowing you, you’ll be all slow and careful, and I don’t need that right now.”

Harry laughed but nodded, certain that he would definitely get an opportunity to do that in the near future, to slowly take Louis apart as he wanted to, to make him writhe and cry and scream his name in sheer ecstasy. For now though, he watched as Louis spread some lube onto a couple of fingers and then sneak his hands between his legs, eyes fluttering shut as he touched himself, working his hole open for Harry.

“Oh god, you look so amazing,” Harry stuttered, wishing he could run his tongue along Louis’ collarbones. Instead, he just admired the string of sunflowers he’d painted there, the way some of the paint had started to smear where they’d got too close. It was sexy, in a way, knowing it was him who had made a mess of Louis like this. “Can I touch you?”

Louis nodded, his mouth dropped open as he groaned, rocking back and forth on his own fingers. Harry reached out and encompassed Louis’ cock with his hand, loving how it felt in his palm. It felt different to his own, slightly smaller but definitely wider, but it was the fact it was Louis’ that made it something else altogether.

“Wanna paint every inch of you,” Harry murmured as he started stroking his lover, loving how Louis’ breath hitched when he brushed his thumb across the slit, collecting a pearl of precome. “Going to, one day, paint my love all over your gorgeous body, make you my own canvas.”

By now, Louis was whimpering each time he sank down, and Harry was a little concerned that whatever was about to happen wouldn’t last long. He could already feel the familiar bubble of his orgasm brewing, and he felt relieved when Louis wiped down his hand, brushing sweat away from his forehead with the back of his other hand.

“You ready?” Harry asked, and watched as Louis nodded, the condom now in his hand. He stayed still while Louis tore it open, rolling it down his length. It twitched as Louis touched it, and Harry just let out a shaky breath, willing himself to hold it together. “How do you want it?”

Lous thought about it for a moment before finally laying down next to Harry, letting his legs fall open. “As much as I want to ride you, I don’t think I’ve got the energy right now. Maybe next time,” he mused as Harry got into position between Louis’ glorious thighs, looking down at the man he loved. Louis was beautiful from this view, and Harry couldn’t help but reach out to touch Louis’ most intimate place, loving how he allowed him to, touching gently. “Haz …”

“Sorry, just …” Harry continued to look down in awe at Louis as he shuffled forward, lining himself up. As Louis took a breath in, Harry nudged his hips forward, pushing himself into Louis’ body. Both men gasped, and Louis scrabbled to grab Harry’s hand as he pushed further inside until he was buried entirely, their bodies completely connected. “God, Louis, I- I don’t know if I’m gonna last…”

“Doesn’t matter,” Louis said, his words slipping from his red, bitten lips as Harry started rocking his hips gently back and forth, the pair moving slowly together as Louis’ legs wrapped around Harry’s hips, keeping him in place. “You’re amazing, baby, so good, make me feel so good…”

The room fell silent again as Harry leaned down, capturing Louis’ mouth in another dirty kiss. Their hands were still tangled together, resting above Louis’ head now, and Harry’s knees slightly ached from the thin blanket underneath him, but he didn’t care. Louis felt amazing around him; warm and tight, his heat setting Harry’s body alight as he thrust inside him over and over.

Harry could see how he was ruining the painting he’d done on Louis’ body as they moved, but in a way, he knew he was creating a masterpiece that could never be replicated. What he was creating was his love on Louis’ body, just for the two of them. It was possibly the most intimate moment he’d even spent with another man, and every inch of Harry felt consumed with love and lust and pure desire. It filled every pore of him, and Harry just had to let it out somehow. 

“I love you,” he whispered into Louis’ ear as Louis tilted his head towards Harry’s lips, the pair kissing once more. This time, though, it felt like there was more behind it, like Harry was pressing all of the other things he couldn’t say right now into it, trying to tell Louis what this meant to him, how he just wanted to belong to him completely. “I love you so much.”

“Then show me how much,” Louis whispered shakily, and Harry decided to do just that. He shifted their position slightly, bringing one of Louis’ ankles onto his shoulder, deepening his position. He heard Louis moan as Harry thrust in again, pressing against Louis’ spot, giving him the ultimate pleasure, and he smiled, so happy to make Louis feel so good. “Fuck, Harry, you’re everything-”

Harry was taken by surprise as, all of a sudden, Louis brought his leg down and pushed Harry away from him before shoving Harry hard down onto the blanket, staring up at him in surprise.

“What the-”

Harry’s hand felt wetness and he looked over, seeing Louis had somehow knocked over the cup of water they’d been using for the paintbrushes, the blanket starting to soak it up. 

“My turn,” Louis said, lowering himself onto Harry’s length slowly. It was a vision, a complete vision for Harry. He knew they were both close now, and he could see a flicker of something in Louis’ eyes as he stared down at him, his palms on Harry’s chest. In this position, Harry could see all of Louis, his own piece of art, something to always be admired, especially by Harry. “Close, baby…”

“Me too,” Harry confirmed, flattening his feet on the floor and using his strong legs to thrust up. He reached behind Louis, holding his cheeks as he picked up the pace, driving into Louis over and over, their skin slapping noisily together. “Louis, can I come inside you?”

“Please, please do,” Louis begged, dragging his fingernails down Harry’s chest. Part of Harry hoped he’d leave marks that he could appreciate later on. “Oh my god…” 

Neither of them said another word, too focussed on their impending orgasms to utter anything else. Harry’s hands were roaming now, feeling every bit of Louis that he could, and he hoped he could hold out until Louis had come, wanting to be able to see that. Thankfully, his wish was answered when Louis cried out Harry’s name, his voice cracking on the last syllable, coating Harry’s skin in come. 

“Hottest thing I’ve ever seen,” Harry proclaimed, not letting up his punishing rhythm. He knew he was teetering on the edge, wanting Louis to give him permission before he gave it up, before he surrendered himself to his high. “Louis, I-”

Louis’ head rose from where he was slumped against Harry’s chest, red-cheeked, sweaty and utterly debauched. Harry thought it was definitely the prettiest Louis had ever looked. “Come for me, want it so much. Come, my love.”

Harry nodded, digging his heels in as he pushed his body to its limits, his thigh muscles burning now as he kept rocking into Louis, over and over and over until-

“I love you, Harry.”

Louis’ words were enough to push Harry over the edge, and he flooded the condom with a silent cry, digging his fingers into Louis’ flesh, holding them together until he finally relaxed, still buried inside Louis. The other man was sprawled on top of Harry, still panting himself as Harry’s arms wrapped around him, sticky skin against sticky skin.

The room was hot, and Harry could feel sweat all over his body, as well as the slightly wet blanket now twisted against his ankle thanks to their passionate love making. He groaned as Louis sat up enough to let Harry’s cock slip out of him, falling heavily against his own leg as Louis maneuvered himself back next to Harry, resting his head on Harry’s chest.

Harry quickly reached down, taking off the now uncomfortable condom, leaving it to the side with the rest of the mess they’d made together. He trailed his fingers up and down the curve of Louis’ spine, head spinning as he came to terms with what they’d just done, a hint of panic setting in now.

“Don’t do that,” Louis mumbled sleepily, his index finger running along Harry’s bottom lip, playing with it gently. “Don’t second guess this.”

“How’d you know?”

“I know you,” Louis said, shrugging a shoulder as best he could in the position they were laid in. He pushed himself up slightly, looking at Harry with a smile. “I wanted that as much as you did, I promise you. I kissed you, remember?”

“You kissed me,” Harry repeated back to him, well aware his dimples were showing as he grinned widely, holding a very naked Louis tightly to his chest. “And you love me.”

“Kinda do,” Louis said, laughing as Harry attempted to kiss him, rolling him backwards onto the blanket again, lazily opening their mouths so Harry could taste Louis again, needing this not to be over. When he finally released Louis, he laughed, looking at the paintings on them both which were now completely ruined. 

“I just … don’t move,” Harry said, hopping to his feet, squealing as he stood straight in the puddle of water pooling on the floor. “Fucking … I’ll be right back, hold on …” He sprinted away, feeling Louis’ eyes burn into his bare back as he hurried through his studio, grabbing the small camera he used to take snaps of his own art in progress, purely for his own records. “Sorry, I …” He waved the camera in Louis’ direction, blushing slightly. “Can I?”

“Of … me?” Louis asked, arching an eyebrow as he brought up one leg, looking coyly at Harry now. 

“Yeah. Well, of the painting. It’s … it’s a mess, like … a beautiful disaster? In, um, in the best way … you just look beautiful, Louis. I don’t want to forget. Wanna keep it sweet in my memory.”

Louis smiled softly then, nodding gently. Harry raised the camera to his face, and centred Louis in the frame before he pressed the button, the snapshot sound going off. Harry took a few more before Louis took being Harry’s model in his stride, posing up the storm, the pair soon laughing too much.

“Let me take some too,” Louis said, waving his hands until Harry gave in, handing over his camera. He let Louis take a few more photos before he came and sat next to him, letting Louis turn the camera on both of them. They pressed their cheeks together and Louis took a few shots before Harry couldn’t help himself, cupping Louis’ cheek and kissing him as Louis took the last photo. “Perfect.”

Harry agreed, taking the camera down and setting it on the sofa out of harm's way. He looked around at the disarray they’d left behind, quietly hoping he’d be able to scrub the stains out of the floor. “I … are you staying?”

“Not here,” Louis said, shaking his head, and Harry’s heart fell. He nodded quickly, willing himself not to let on how disappointed he was. “You want a tea or something before we go to bed?”

Harry’s head snapped up so fast, a look of shock on his face. “You’re- you’re not leaving?”

“No?” Louis replied, looking quizzically at Harry before his eyes widened, as it dawned on him what was happening. “Oh! I meant I’m not staying  _ here,”  _ he said, indicating the messy studio with his hand. “Your bed, on the other hand …”

Harry lunged forward and grabbed Louis, spinning the pair of them around before he set Louis down on the floor, kissing him again. “Good. Wanted to cuddle you and kiss you all night, and wake up to you tomorrow and do it all over again.”

“And I’m fully in support of that,” Louis said, slipping his hands into Harry’s, the pair still facing each other. “We’ll clean this up tomorrow, yeah? Right now, I just want to clean ourselves. Shower?”

Harry nodded eagerly, the pair quickly blowing out the candles before he let Louis drag him back into the rest of the warehouse, pulling the studio doors closed behind them. Already naked, they strolled into the bathroom and Harry flicked the shower on, steam soon billowing through the wet room. They stepped up the spray together, and Harry just watched as the marbled colourful water swirled around the floor before it disappeared down the drain.

“You make me so happy, Lou,” Harry whispered against his lips, hands finding the beautiful curve of Louis’ waist again. “I just … I want to get to know  _ you _ , like this.”

Louis smiled into yet again kiss as the water rained down on them, washing away the remainder of the paint, cleaning their skin, leaving them entirely bare again. It felt somehow symbolic to Harry, like they were starting anew with each other, heading into unknown territory but this time, together.

“Couldn’t want you anymore that I did tonight,” Louis mumbled, nestling against Harry’s chest, his arms looped around Harry’s waist. He kissed just to the side of his nipple and rested his fingers in the cleft of Harry’s bum, an intimate gesture. “I love you.”

“Love you too, sunflower,” Harry whispered as he kissed him again. It was the first night of a lifetime of kisses, and already, Harry was entirely lost in everything that was Louis. His sunshine, his reason. “Does, um-” Harry blushed heavily as he spoke again, determined to ask. “Does this mean we’re … boyfriends?”

Louis’ grin was all Harry needed. The kiss to seal the deal was just the icing on the cake.

❁❁❁❁❁❁

Harry stirred first the next morning, shivering slightly. It was a cool morning, cooler than the day before, but Harry soon realised why it was that he was so chilly. In the night, Louis had apparently taken it upon himself to take all of the quilt and draped himself in it, then moulded himself up against Harry’s body, stealing his body heat as well as his covers.

However, Harry couldn’t bring himself to be mad at Louis in the slightest. He looked adorable as he slept, cheeks pink and hair a mess on top of his head. As much as Harry wanted to stay where he was and admire his new boyfriend, the call of nature was a more pressing concern, so Harry swung his legs out of bed, lifting himself up gently so he wouldn’t disturb the sleeping beauty beside him.

Harry tiptoed through to the bathroom, grateful it was a small ensuite, and peered at himself in the mirror, grimacing at the reflection that confronted him. There were several dark lovebites on his neck, a couple of scratch marks on his shoulder, but above all of that, Harry could see the utter happiness that shone in his eyes. 

He washed his hands and slipped back into the bedroom, smiling at how Louis had already stolen some of his space. He’d kicked off some of the covers, baring an expanse of tanned, smooth back and Harry had an idea. He crept out of the bedroom, leaving Louis for a moment as he walked through the warehouse to his studio. He cringed again when he saw the mess that was still there but smiled at the reminder of their activities the night before, how it had felt to finally sleep with Louis, to confess how they felt.

He grabbed a small tube of yellow paint and a thin brush, as well as his camera before he headed back to Louis, keen to keep as little distance between them as he could. When he was back in his bedroom, Harry knelt on the bed next to a still sleeping Louis, careful not to jostle the other man too much. 

“So beautiful,” Harry muttered to himself as he unscrewed the cap of the paint, squeezing out a little onto the tip of his brush. With careful, slow and steady strokes, Harry started painting more sunflowers on Louis’ back, hoping it wouldn’t wake him.

Time flew by, and before Harry knew it, Louis’ back was covered in a field of sunflowers from his shoulders all the way down to the base of his spine, Harry stopping where Louis had left the covers draped over his bum. The paint was still wet and glistened in the soft lamp light Harry had switched on, and Harry was certain he’d never created something so beautiful in his life. Not to mention this was a one off, and entirely priceless, especially to Harry.

“What are you-”

“Don’t move!” Harry whisper-shouted, holding Louis down by his arm, keen he couldn’t ruin it before he took a photo. “Sorry, I … I couldn’t wake you but it was too tempting seeing you laid out like this.”

“I was hoping for head when I woke up, not more art,” Louis grumbled, nuzzling the pillow beneath his head as he started to wake fully. “What have you done to me now?”

“Made you into more of a masterpiece,” Harry stated, speaking only the truth. “Made you into what you are… a field of sunshine, of happiness.”

“You’re so fucking sappy in the morning,” Louis said, but Harry could hear him smile, even if he couldn’t see it. “Lemme see.”

Harry nodded and set his brush down on the bedside table before he grabbed the camera, taking a few photos. Before he let Louis see, Harry sprang up and pulled back one of the curtains, letting a shard of sunlight fall across Louis’ back. It was almost too perfect for words, and Harry swallowed down the lump in his throat as he steadied the camera, taking a few more photos.

“Lou … can you look at me, babe?”

It almost took Harry’s breath away when Louis did as he asked, turning and giving Harry the most beautiful smile that lit up his whole face. Harry took a few more pictures before he walked over, kneeling at the side of the bed, framing Louis’ face in the viewfinder. He took one last photo before he put the camera down and leaned in, brushing his lips against Louis’.

“I’m so happy you’re here,” Harry said quietly, words for just the two of them. “Sorry, let me show you …” he hurried to say as Louis stretched his arm out, trying to grab the camera. Louis sat up carefully and they both looked at the photos, Louis clearly too stunned to speak. “Gorgeous, huh?”

“You’re  _ so _ talented,” Louis said, lacing his fingers with Harry’s. “Like … I can imagine this at one of your exhibitions. Not me, but the photo of me like this.”

“S’what you deserve,” Harry said, putting the camera back down. “To be hung up in the gallery. On display, for everyone to admire. I’d love that, letting everyone see but knowing you’re mine.”

“Yours?”

“Mm hmm,” Harry hummed, smirking slightly. “Definitely mine.” He let Louis push him back against the mattress, holding Louis by the hips where he wouldn’t ruin his artwork. “My beautiful sunflower Lou. Love you.”

They kissed for a minute until Louis interrupted them, looking down on Harry. 

“Hey, can we get my painting today? I want to put it up and admire it.”

“Would rather admire you,” Harry whispered huskily, pulling Louis down so he could flick his tongue against his nipple. “You’re much more beautiful than anything I could create.”

“My back begs to differ,” Louis chuckled, trying to look over his own shoulder to see Harry’s work. “Haz?”

“Yeah?” Harry replied, working on sucking a love bite into Louis’ chest, leaving something there that couldn’t be washed down the drain later on that day. “Sorry, what?”

“You … you okay with this? Us? I just … I guess the drink last night gave me courage to finally do what I’ve wanted to for so long. No, don’t interrupt, just … let me … I mean, you’re my best friend. You’ve always been my best friend and nothing will change that. But I always wanted more. I watched you become so successful, and I was so proud of you. I loved you a little bit more every day, and last night I just … I couldn’t hold it in anymore.”

Harry crashed their lips together once more, filled with emotion. “I’m glad you were braver than I was. And I love you, so much, Lou. I know it’s soon to say that, I do, I’m not like, crazy or something but-”

Louis cut him off with a kiss, their stubbly chins brushing as they did so. “Don’t care. I love you too.”

Harry’s grin was swept away as Louis kissed him again, and again, and again …

**_The following summer_ **

“This one is mine, yes?” Louis whispered in Harry’s ear, making him giggle yet again. 

“Yes, Lou. You know it is. But you know what?” Harry turned to look at his boyfriend, seeing complete love and adoration reflected in his eyes. “I still can’t believe someone just bought six of my pieces! Six! Do you have any idea how much money that is?”

Louis smirked at him, playing with one of the rings on Harry’s long fingers. “Enough to sweep me away on holiday and treat us to a week of sun, sand, and sex?”

Harry leaned in to kiss him, not caring who was watching. “Most definitely. In fact, I’ve been thinking about-”

“Excuse me, Sir?”

Harry whirled around, plastering on a grin as he faced the gentleman who had captured his attention, trying to push away the dirty things he’d been thinking about doing to Louis on holiday to the back of his mind for now.

“Hello,. I’m Harry Styles, nice to meet you,” he said, shaking the man's hand. “Thank you so much for coming along today.”

The older man smiled at Harry, tucking an arm around a woman who had come to stand beside him. “My wife suggested it. She’s seen your work in one of her art magazines, and was determined to come and see it in person-”

“It’s just wonderful,” the woman gushed, making Harry start to blush, Louis stood proudly by his side. “I absolutely love how you’ve decided to incorporate photography alongside your other pieces. It adds so much depth to your work, I just feel like I can immerse myself in the world you’re capturing!”

Harry could sense Louis trying not to laugh beside him, and he reached down, squeezing his boyfriend’s hand a little harder, attempting to distract him. “Ah, I appreciate that very much. I’ve always dabbled in photography, and I was keen to introduce it to this exhibition and see how it was received.”

The woman smiled, stepping closer to one of Harry’s photographs. “I think it’s an excellent move. I’ll certainly be ordering something for my birthday, won’t I, Brian?”

Brian sighed, smiling lovingly at his wife. “As you wish, darling.”

Harry and Louis bade the couple farewell and wandered off, leaving them to decide which of Harry’s photographs they were going to buy. Ever since Harry had picked up the camera and taken some photos of Louis, he’d been completely taken with the photography bug again. He and Louis had spent the rest of the summer trailing around the countryside, with Harry taking some shots he was incredibly proud of, so much so he printed several onto large canvases, blowing them up and hanging them around the warehouse.

When his agent had come round to arrange Harry’s latest exhibition, Harry had had to practically scrape her jaw off the floor as she took in Harry’s work, insisting he hang some of them in this show. Harry had been apprehensive, but Louis had persuaded him to try, reassuring him that it was just something to accompany Harry’s favourite medium, which remained painting. Now, though, Harry was pleased he’d listened as the photographs had been a major hit with the visitors.

Louis spotted his sister come in through the door and hurried off, leaving Harry to watch them out of the corner of his eye. Lottie gave him a wave as Louis dragged her off, ready to show her around the exhibition as he’d promised to do the other day on the phone when Harry had overheard them. He loved how proud Louis was of his work, and Lottie trekking over to see Harry’s work after a long day at her own job meant the world to him. 

He was about to join them when he saw a young couple, hand in hand in front of his favourite photograph, talking quietly to each other. He smiled to himself and casually walked along, trying to imagine how one of the visitors to his exhibition would view it, what they’d think.

“Just … I get the impression that whoever is in this photo is important to him,” one of the women said to the other, pointing at something. “It’s intimate, you know? Like, the sheet is just draped over him, like they’d just finished…”

There was a giggle then, and Harry covered his own smile with his hand, finding their perception of his photo interesting, keen to hear more.

“That’s a beautiful thing, I reckon,” the other said, resting her head on the shoulder of the woman next to her. “To love someone so much you want to capture every moment with them, to show it to the world. That you can be so proud of that person and how they make you feel that you want to shout it to the world.”

Harry felt like there was a lump in his throat then, knowing the women had unknowingly hit the nail on the head. They were right; he was unbelievably proud to call Louis his, and this photo in particular was one that he adored, and it was the one Louis wanted to ensure was his. 

“I wish I could- oh my god. You’re Harry Styles. That’s  _ Harry Styles _ ,” the slightly shorter woman said, blushing profusely as her eyes flickered over Harry. “Shit, did you hear- I’m so sorry-”

“Don’t be,” Harry insisted, going in for a quick hug, social etiquette be damned. “It’s actually really nice to hear people talk about my work, to see how they interpret it.”

“Oh thank goodness. I go to exhibitions a lot, quite often the artist isn’t around, or hovers in the back. Sorry, I’m Maddie,” one of the women said, tucking her arm around the woman next to her. “This is my partner, Rachel.”

“Lovely to meet you both,” Harry replied, catching sight of Louis and Lottie out of the corner of his eye, standing in front of another of Harry’s new paintings. “You were right, actually. With what you said about this picture.”

Maddie smiled gently, tilting her head slightly to the side as she turned her attention back to the photo. “Yeah? I just … I got a romantic vibe about it. Why did you choose sunflowers?”

Harry smiled to himself then, not caring he was about to get very soppy to a complete stranger. “Sunflowers are pretty special for us, my boyfriend and I. I’ve always loved them, but then … they took on a whole new meaning.”

“In what way?”

Harry paused, thinking his words through before he let them out. For some reason, it felt important that he get this right, if only for himself. “He’s … he's my bit of brightness. When I see him every day, he makes everything a bit better. We saw a field of sunflowers once, and he just stood out to me, even amongst all of that natural sunshine. He was brighter than all of those, and he was the one I was watching the entire time. So it felt right to paint him as what I see, something bright and beautiful. Something that when you see it, you won’t ever forget it’s beauty. That’s what Louis is to me.”

Both women turned to smile at each other then before turning back to Harry, hands held between them now.

“That’s beautiful, Harry, but,” interjected Rachel, her eyes flitting between Harry and the photograph, the pause feeling a little ominous. “The title. Why is it called that?  _ Sunflower Vol. 6 _ , I mean? I understand the sunflowers part now, of course, but ...”

Harry chuckled, feeling the heat rise up his cheeks.

“I believe that was my fault,” came a voice from behind him, and Harry beamed as Louis came over, lacing their fingers together as Lottie watched on from a few steps away. “I couldn’t … lay still.”

“It’s you!” Maddie exclaimed, nudging her partner with her elbow. “Told you it was intimate! You’re the boyfriend, the sunflower!”

“I can totally see it when you smile,” Rachel laughed as Harry leaned in to kiss Louis, making it clear what they were to each other, that the women had been right about the pair of them. “Well, alright then, you were right, love.”

“Yeah, he’s my muse,” Harry shrugged, unashamed of the fact. “He just looked beautiful when I painted on his back. It was a copy of another of my works actually, from that day I told you about. It’s a special picture to Louis and I, so I wanted to recreate it on his skin. I was really pleased with how it turned out, but yeah, the photograph took six attempts to get right.”

“Didn’t hear you complaining at the time,” Louis whispered huskily in Harry’s ear, making him shudder. “Shame the other photos you took that morning aren’t on show …”

“Louis, it’s not that kind of exhibition,” Harry giggled against Louis’ lips as they rested their foreheads against each other, Louis’ fingers tucking just inside the waistband of Harry’s trousers. “But you’re right, the fact you’re insatiable is definitely a bonus … even more so when you’re covered in paint, apparently.”

The shade of pink on Louis’ cheek in that moment was something Harry wanted to capture and keep for the rest of his life, to paint the most stunning picture with so everyone could see how beautiful Louis was like this.

“Good job you love me then, isn’t it?”

They kissed as the other women smiled and left them to it, chatting quietly to each other again. Harry managed to extract himself from Louis’ embrace, turning them both to the picture.

“See? Right where I told you you belong,” Harry mused, turning to look down at Louis as his boyfriend looked up at him.

“By your side?”

“Oh, definitely,” Harry confirmed, squeezing Louis’ fingers gently. “And also hung up high in my gallery.”


End file.
